Mr Chairperson:
It is wonderful to be on this podium at Chatham
House after I was last here more than thirty years ago.
I understand that the Chatham House Rule, before it
was amended in 2002, was designed to guarantee anonymity to those speaking
within its walls in order that better international relations could be
achieved.
The topic that I have been asked to speak on
tonight, I believe, is of such importance, not only to the future of my
nation and the African continent, but also to the entire world, that I do
not mind if, on this occasion, the rule is not applied to me.
My topic, ‘Breaking down the walls of silence and
stigma surrounding HIV/Aids in South Africa’ is undoubtedly the biggest
public policy challenge facing my country in our time. It is also a
matter, I understand, of direct concern and interest to the United
Kingdom.
The former Foreign Secretary, Lord Palmerston said
in 1848, ‘England has no eternal friends, England has no perpetual
enemies. England has only eternal and perpetual interests’. Palmerston
said this when imperial Britain’s power was at its zenith. Though many
in the realist school of international relations might argue that
Palmerston’s dictum is the Rosetta stone of foreign policy, I contend
that the United Kingdom is a friend of South Africa.
I, of course, come here tonight as a friend (some
have even described me an as Anglophile!) with a keen and sensitive
appreciation of the deep bonds of history that tie our peoples together.
Well, they misunderstood my background which is partly British, in the
sense that South Africa was a colony of Great Britain. To introduce
myself, I am the great grandson of King Cetshwayo and a maternal grandson
of his son, King Dinuzulu. It was King Cetshwayo’s Regiments that fought
with the army of Queen Victoria in 1879. The Commander-in-Chief of all the
King’s Regiments was my paternal great grandfather, Mnyamana Buthelezi,
who was the Prime Minister of the king at the time. King Cetshwayo was the
nephew of King Shaka, the founder of the Zulu Nation.
As the linear traditional Prime Minister of the Zulu
Nation, I am the great grandson of my maternal great grandfather, King
Cetshwayo, the direct descendant of King Shaka who was the founder of the
Zulu Nation.
It was King Cetshwayo’s regiments that inflicted
the worst defeat ever on imperial Britain at the Battle of Isandlwana on
the 22nd of January 1879, during the Anglo- Zulu war. King Cetshwayo’s
regiments were led by my great grandfather, Mnyamana Buthelezi, the then
Prime Minister to the King.
After the then British Prime Minister Benjamin
Disraeli told a dazed House of Commons that the Zulus were a “remarkable
people”, no less than eleven Victoria Crosses were awarded in
recognition of the defence of Rorke’s Drift which followed shortly
afterwards.
A few months later, the Zulu Regiments were finally
defeated by the British Army at the Battle of Ulundi on the 4th of July
1879. The course of my nation’s history changed forever. The country was
divided into thirteen kinglets and the monarchy was suppressed. Thirty one
years later the Crown Colonies and the Afrikaner Republics were
consolidated into modern day South Africa.
Quite apart from our shared history and cultural,
economic and social ties, the United Kingdom has been a presence and a
staunch friend to South Africa during the dark night of apartheid. I think
of the Free Nelson Mandela rallies that were held in Trafalgar Square.
I also recall the commitment of leaders like
Baroness Margaret Thatcher, who resolutely opposed the injustices of
apartheid, but knew that following the path of the armed struggle,
sanctions and disinvestment would destroy the lives of the poorest of the
black majority. I shall always remain indebted to Lady Thatcher for giving
me such solid support in my campaign against sanctions and disinvestment.
Today, the United Kingdom continues to support South
Africa as we face another challenge as great as apartheid in the scale of
human misery it leaves in its wake.
As part of the new UK strategy on HIV/AIDS for
developing countries, announced by Prime Minister Tony Blair in July 2004,
the plan committed the UK to spending at least £1 billion over three
years on AIDS-related work. A £30 million multi-sectoral commitment
agreed to in 2003 has resulted in a programme which works with a range of
partners in national and provincial governments, as well as with civil
society and the private sector in South Africa. As a South African, I
would like to say thank you to Britain for your assistance in our hour of
adversity.
And we do live in a time of adversity. One in ten
South Africans is currently affected by HIV/Aids. This means that one in
ten people we work with in the office, or sit next to in a taxi, or in a
Sunday church service, is infected. Can you picture this? Imagine that one
in ten people you sit with on the London tube or pass by on the street are
infected. In South Africa, this is equivalent to nearly five million
people.
Within that figure, six times more girls are HIV
infected than boys. Last year, two and a half times more young women in
South Africa were HIV infected, than their male counterparts. It is girls
and adult women who are bearing the brunt of the pandemic. We also know
that in a country, where one in two women is raped in her lifetime, rape
is a significant factor in HIV transmission.
I could carry on but I am weary of statistics. They
do not tell the real human story. And they hide much more than they
reveal.
In addition to the 5-million number of the infected,
many more South Africans are affected by the disease. For most,
understandably, the scale of the pandemic is still almost impossible to
humanly comprehend. Scientists tell us we will not reach the plateau of
this pandemic and feel its full impact for another decade or so.
As a leader, I have observed how, almost unhindered,
HIV/Aids is decimating our people, tearing apart our families, and
uprooting our communities in my home province, KwaZulu-Natal, and
elsewhere throughout the nation.
Tragically, at the very time our nation needed to
pull together to repair its injured society, the pandemic struck. Indeed,
it is threatening to reverse much of what has been achieved in our country
since the first democratic elections of 1994.
On the ground, the pandemic has redrawn the social
map of South Africa and redefined many interpersonal relationships. It has
created brand new categories of orphans, child-headed households, and
terminally ill patients, who cannot perform their daily tasks without
cumbersome assistance.
We have funerals every weekend in KwaZulu-Natal, the
nation's worst hit province. In a vicious cycle, poverty means that people
are more likely to contract HIV/Aids. The virus, in turn, makes poverty
worse, as young parents get sick and die, leaving their children
vulnerable and unprotected. Children, and girls in particular, are at
increased risk from Aids.
In the fight against HIV/Aids in South Africa, the
dice were loaded against us. Since the emergence of the disease in early
1980s, the world and South Africa experienced a steep learning curve. The
debate began with the first statistics. Aids case data from 1982, where
the first two cases were seen, to 1991 showed the majority of those
infected were gay men.
The prevalence data collected by the apartheid
government were primarily black women attending antenatal classes. The
message was that this was a disease of gay men and black women.
When the new government came into office in 1994, in
which I served as Minister of Home Affairs, nation building and
reconciliation were understandably the top priorities and eclipsed the
impending disaster.
And as cases of HIV continue to rise across the
globe, including in high-income countries, such as the United Kingdom,
where anti-retroviral drugs and triple therapy are helping to prolong
lives, it is the rural communities of the developing world that are being
decimated day by day.
Often we made and still makes things worse
ourselves. While the world struggled with how best to combat the disease,
some of our leaders argued about its very existence.
Despite scientific conclusions to the contrary, some
politicians, pseudo-scientists and journalists have been sowing discord
and confusion amongst the masses. I was particularly appalled last year at
the nonsense peddled by writer Rian Malan, when he argued in The Spectator
that the impact of HIV and Aids on our economy and society has been
grossly exaggerated.
All this has contributed to a slow response to the
pandemic. Bureaucracy and a lack of commitment have taken their toll.
Despite a Cabinet promise in April 2002, to give HIV preventative
post-exposure drugs to rape survivors, this rarely occurs in practice.
Similarly, few HIV-positive pregnant women are given Nevirapine in order
to prevent mother-to-child transmission of HIV.
According to the Department of Health's own figures,
only about 12,000 patients countrywide are currently receiving
anti-retroviral treatment. The chaos in the department has been exposed by
investigative journalism which estimates the figure to be 14,000.
Nevertheless, both figures fall alarmingly short of the 53,000 initially
set by the Department.
In KwaZulu-Natal, which has the country's highest
prevalence rate of HIV, only 930 out of the originally targeted 20,000
people have received treatment at the province's 31 test sites. Things are
even worse in Limpopo province. Only 20 out of almost 7000 targeted people
have received treatment. The situation is bad.
An additional, particularly horrific side effect of
the HIV/Aids epidemic has been a throwback of the 19th century Europe when
it was thought that having sex with a virgin could cure gonorrhoea and
syphilis. In its South African incarnation, the myth of the “Virgin Cure”
has been promoted as a method of preventing or curing HIV/Aids, and has
been linked with a different epidemic – child and infant rape.
Nearly sixty children a day are raped in South
Africa. According to the BBC, a girl born in South Africa today is more
likely to be raped than learn how to read.
Amid such crisis, access to treatment is crucial. If
appropriately prescribed, properly taken, and supported by a healthy
lifestyle, anti-retroviral drugs can massively prolong the health and
well-being of people who are HIV-positive. It was for this reason that my
political party, while in government in KwaZulu-Natal, rolled out
anti-retroviral drugs to prevent mother-to-child transmission of the HIV.
We also, in a joint action with the pressure group
Treatment Action Campaign, took the national government to the
Constitutional Court to compel them to fulfill their constitutional
obligation to provide life-saving anti-retroviral drugs. Not only do we
have an idea of the human misery and the death toll spawned by HIV/Aids,
we also know that the pandemic will have a huge impact upon our economic
performance.
This is already happening. HIV/Aids is depleting our
workforce by thousands. It frightens away foreign direct investment at a
time when we are trying to compete in a competitive international
environment.
I was alarmed to read a report prepared for the
World Economic Forum in Davos, which revealed that companies fail to draw
up plans to cope with HIV/Aids until it affects 20% of people in a
country. The report shows that despite the fact that 14,000 people
contract HIV/Aids every day, concern among businesses has dropped by 23%
in the last 12 months. Most, 71% percent, have no policies in place to
address the disease. Nor could over 65% of the business leaders surveyed
say, or estimate, the prevalence of HIV among their staff.
I must therefore applaud companies like Anglo
American. This giant mining company estimates an HIV prevalence of 24%
among its 130,000-strong Southern African workforce. Over the last two
years, the company has implemented extensive voluntary counselling and
testing for HIV infection, coupled with anti-retroviral therapy for
employees progressing to Aids. Over 90% of the 2,200 employees, who have
accessed and remained on treatment, are well and have returned to normal
work.
I exhort other companies who have a presence in
South Africa to follow Anglo American's example. Not just because it is
the right thing to do. It also makes economic sense.
I am concerned that, in South Africa, funds for
HIV/Aids still constitute less that one percent of the total consolidated
budget. I contend that if our nation was fighting a military campaign
against invading forces, we would allocate more than one percent of our
resources to fighting it. How much more should we invest in fighting a war
that threatens our very existence?
As I said before, yes, it will be expensive. And
yes, it would have been preferable if we could have allocated these scarce
funds to other worthy social programmes. But it is cheaper to confront
Aids than ignore its disastrous effects and pay the full price later.
I appeal to our leaders to supply the measure of
leadership given by President Yoweri Musevenii of Uganda. This Great Lakes
country has reduced the infection rate from 30% to five percent. I wish
this success story could be repeated in my own country. In large part,
this was due to the openness of the Ugandan leaders in speaking out
against the stigma and silence surrounding HIV/Aids.
Yet we can see clearly the danger of allowing
notions of 'them' and 'us' to flourish here. We must accept that is it
only ‘us’, as HIV/Aids does not discriminate. We are all at risk.
While many are infected, we all are affected. The full awareness of this
is essential if we are to eradicate the disease in the future. Millions of
people have died unnecessarily as a result of ignorance. More will be
claimed by the disease in the coming years, but many more can and must be
saved.
This evening, I have touched briefly on the public
policy issues relating to the fight against HIV/AIDS in South Africa. I
would also, if I may, like to touch upon the personal.
Here in Britain, you are used to talking openly
about sexuality. Parents are encouraged to talk to their children about
sex. Thorny issues such as premarital sex, abortion, and homosexuality
have long been aired in soaps like Eastenders and Coronation Street, the
tabloid newspapers and formed part of the education curriculum.
In my culture, parents traditionally did not talk to
children about sex. That was the responsibility of their older peers. I do
not mind admitting that I have come a long way in my personal journey. If
the leaders of South Africa have sometimes seemed a little tardy in their
response, it is usually out of prudence rather than malice.
While full sexual intercourse before marriage is
taboo in our society, our people are nevertheless realistic enough to know
what the associated risks are. In the past we accepted that the sexual
instinct is very strong. We therefore practiced the non-penetrative sex,
known as ukusoma in Zulu or ukumetya in Xhosa. African problems require
Africans solutions. It is quite clear that if we do not look seriously at
some of the tenets of our moral code, we will not be able to reduce the
incidence of this pandemic or to eliminate it.
My anguish at the plight of my fellow South Africans
has meant that I have had to open my heart and mind to subjects that, in
all candour, have long been taboo to talk about in my society.
For my wife, Irene, and me, there was not the
deceiving cloak of anonymity, as the disease has struck down two members
of our family, two of our own, beloved children. There are no words to
convey the pain one feels, when the natural rhythm of life is violated and
parents outlive their offspring.
When I remember my children, Nelisa and Mandisi, I
recall that they never succumbed to a 'victim' mentality, but fought the
disease with the courage and the spirit of those who never give up hope.
And they did not. I derive some comfort from the knowledge that they live
forever in the Holy City where there are no more tears or pain.
In today’s South Africa, the commitment to equal
human dignity is the touchstone of our Constitution and Bill of Rights.
Apartheid cruelly blunted our people's inalienable right to live in
dignity. I fear the HIV/Aids epidemic runs the same risk. People living
with HIV/Aids are at risk of being swallowed up in the anonymity of
numbers. That is why we have to treat all victims of the disease as our
own family members.
That is why I also salute my former President Nelson
Mandela, who spoke out about the cause of death of Makgatho, his son, who
also succumbed, like our children, to the pandemic of Aids more recently.
He and I have come a long way and I salute his characteristic generosity
of the spirit. Once again he put the country before self. I must also
mention how inspired we were by the former British Cabinet minister, Chris
Smith, who in announcing his HIV-positive status since 1980, stated that
he was inspired to do so by President Mandela’s example.
Whilst I have conceded that I have undertaken a long
and painful journey, I believe there are some things that do not change.
At the beginning, I mentioned the courage of the Zulu Regiments at the
Battle of Isandlwana in 1879. Historians amongst you will recall that King
Shaka perfected the famous encircling tactic. This tactic, suggesting the
horns of the bull, was used by the Zulu warriors with devastating skill
and precision at the Battle of Isandlwana. Like on that fateful day, our
people are once again experiencing an eclipse of the sun.
Just like the brave Zulu Regiments did in that
battle, we must encircle this disease in unity to tear down the walls of
silence and stigma that make us to vulnerable to the deadly virus which
causes it.
Those like Nelson Mandela, Archbishop Desmond Tutu
and myself, who have likened the scourge of HIV/Aids to that of apartheid,
will know that it took a cloak of unity to defeat racial discrimination
and injustice. South Africa will have to wear the same cloak when we
overcome our prejudice and silence and confront the disease as one.
I am confident of victory. We have done this before
and we will manage again. For a great nation like South Africa, there is
no hardship that we cannot bear and no trial we cannot overcome. To
another great nation, these spectred islands, I simply ask that you stand
by us as you always have.
On this note, I thank you, my gracious hosts.